


Through the Sphere

by likethechesspiece



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Angst, F/F, Not sorry at all, Season 3, When Helena is in the sphere, but all the feels, so much of it, so no touchy touchy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-13 23:32:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11770749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethechesspiece/pseuds/likethechesspiece
Summary: Life, when split in two, was a hard concept to grasp, to understand, but Helena felt as if she had been living with it for a long while now; so, she really should be used to it.





	Through the Sphere

Life, when split in two, was a hard concept to grasp, to understand, but Helena felt as if she had been living with it for a long while now; so, she really should be used to it. Each split in her life seemed to overlap with a new one, her past and present, her heart and mind, her mind and body. It was growing tiresome, but she didn’t really know what it was to feel whole anymore. Being a divided human being was normal for her. After over a century of life, she really couldn’t recall anything different.

It began in London around the time her brother’s first novel had been published. Her ideas and her genius, but washed over in favour of Charles’ writing skills and gender. It was a split that she had felt her entire life up until that point – the dichotomy between what she was capable of as a human, but what she was expected to do as a woman – that was now only accentuated by the addition of fame. Her brother was the star and she was the doting sister, a sly underdog to the entire successful scheme.

Then when her brains and wondrous know-how were finally recognised, it needed to remain shrouded in secrecy, and so off to the warehouse she went. Her heart and decorum remained in the ‘real’ world with Charles, and darling Christina, but her passion and drive resided and flourished at Warehouse 12. A split, however common – what with having a secret in one’s life – but a greater split in her conscience nonetheless. It was a split that she soon grew used to, and appreciated in its own way, as she was finally and freely allowed to use her inventor’s brain to solve puzzles and obtain new artifacts for the warehouse.

All too soon, it seemed, another split took over her. Christina was murdered, and Helena felt a part of her die with her beloved daughter. She now lived with the living, but dreamt of the dead, and this was the most painful split yet. It forever remained so as well, as it drove her mad and irrational. A safety precaution for the rest of those she loved, along with the hope that may carry her through – unfortunately joined by that ever-growing hate – she was bronzed so that she may awaken in a time when things may be better.

When she awoke in the twenty-first century, her mind travelled, as did her ghosting fingertips, across new inventions and old dust covered relics that seemed new in her day. Fascination with a computer that could fit in one’s lap, or the simplicity of a post-it note slowly grew to disgust and irritation; when such frivolous things could be made so easily, so readily, so constantly, why then were wars still raging, forever raging, and why was there still so much pain in the world. The split took hold of her, longing for the hope of the 1800s but terribly stuck in the dread of the 2000s.

In her years of being bronzed, it did indeed offer her time to think. She thought of Christina most of all, feeling the split grow in her as each day passed. It soon emerged in her mind as some giant crevasse cracking down her middle, bits of crumbling dirt eroding from the sides and weighing down the bottom until it split even deeper. On a few rare occasions, she hoped that one day that crevasse might sprout some flowers, greenery of some kind to signify life and happiness. Somehow, Helena, in all her anger, doubted that very much.

She tried to end the world, to end the suffering of everyone in it, and to prevent others from feeling that split; deep down she convinced herself that what she was doing was merciful. A lie, of course, and she only realised it as such when Myka held her gun to her head, wrapping Helena’s own hand around it. It was not just _a life_ that she might be taking if she had pulled that trigger; it was Myka’s. In those few short seconds, she felt it all. She felt that crevasse bloom and rupture with flowers and love, and then the weight of it all come crashing back down as she dropped the gun and the trident, falling to her knees.

Betrayed by her own heart and mind, her calculating brain and the body that wished to be held and use to hold with in return, she was somewhat enticed about the prospect of the Janus Coin. Of course, she wished to remain whole so that she could – yet again – redeem herself, but knew that this was what must be done; it was safer and another split? Nothing she hadn’t adjusted to before. It was an odd existence now, she soon discovered. She was not conscious of her time in the sphere, save the few moments before activation and return to it, and so was spared the painful and long hours with no company. Her thoughts would surely have driven her truly mad this time around if that had been the case.

It was also oddly relieving for, although feeling emotionally hurt by something that Pete no doubt muttered, or the slight feeling of exploitation, that pain did not reach any corporeal form. In these moments of hurt, she could not feel tears burn at her eyes at all, and she was honestly thankful for it; after a century of life and the crying that came with it, she was grateful for a break.

This split, however fragmented, felt like the sort of rest from herself that she needed. One is obviously stuck with themselves for life, but when life drags on to past a century, irritation is bound to arise. Helena felt this, and was glad for the moments of utter silence in her mind. Days, sometimes weeks, passed between when her presence, or conscience, was requested. She would often ask Mrs Frederic or whomever else extracted her from her slumber of sorts what the date was, not that it ultimately mattered. She was told, and she would then register as to how long she had been in this latest state. It would wash over her, and she would move on, ready to take on the task or question at hand.

When finally – for she had hoped for it every time she felt activation begin – Mrs Frederic brought her to see Myka, she tried to memorise every fraction of the other woman’s image. It had been a long while since she had seen her face, and even then, Myka was heartbroken and betrayed the last time she had. She had straightened her hair now; Helena felt a hum somehow at the sight, and her faint smile that grew because of it was only wiped away when Myka’s words cut so harshly to her. Warranted as they were, it still hurt. She could only blame herself, and so she did.

Another while later, Myka appeared in front of her accompanied by the unwelcoming voice of Pete. Artie was oddly less opposed to her assistance on the case, but Claudia was sure to shoot her a kind smile amongst the mayhem. She had betrayed them all, but she still cared for them, and loved her girls. Banter, back and forth, sassing Artie and ignoring Pete’s temper, all just to see Myka, to hear her voice and to hope that this may be the first step of a long redemption. She surely thought that Myka wouldn’t even look her in the eye, but was surprised a few times in that room. Each time she saw the pain, but there was something else too. Helena found herself hoping.

Artie shut her down eventually, and she could hear his utterance, glad to stop her, shut her up, and control her. If she had been conscious any longer, she was sure that she would’ve felt the familiar tang of bitter rage in her throat, but of course, she had no throat and no time.

Myka was handed the sphere for safe-keeping, and she held it securely to her stomach, in the nook below her breast and ribs. When Pete would make a particularly snide comment on the case, she held it even tighter to herself, almost as if she were forcing it into her body, to slot up behind her ribs and nestle next to her heart. Circumstance had drawn her to Helena and driven her away from Pete, and even though it seemed so long ago, the wounds were still fresh. Perhaps so because Helena’s return only ripped the scarred skin open again.

She hurt for Pete and his feeling of loss; she had left him, not even a goodbye, because of how Helena had hurt her and become lost to Myka in return. But now, with old wounds new again, the throbbing of pain was nothing compared to the warmth of the blood that she bled for Helena. The case drew to an end and the familiar happy buzz found its way into her heart again, although this time she was wary of it. Helena had proven herself trustworthy; she had saved the day and begun her redemption. Yet now, Myka doubted that there was good intention behind any of it.

Shelving the artifact was her duty, and still distrusting and worrisome of the men who seemed to always growl at Helena, Myka snaffled the sphere down to the floor with her. She activated Helena out of something akin to habit before setting to work, enjoying how the other woman watched her. Occasionally, she could hear Helena open her mouth and take a deep breath, perhaps to start saying something, but then the silence continued and her heart smiled. It was just good to have Helena next to her... sort of.

Myka had her own split growing deep. Always susceptible to sprouting flowers and vines, it was born in the fact that – put simply – she loved Helena so much, but hated her at the same time.

Her heart was thrumming in her throat and she was sure that as her hair was tucked behind her ear and draped over her shoulder, Helena could see it in her pulse. Then conversation began as she finished up, and her heart broke again, those flowers crumbling down the crevasse as Helena stated that they “made a good team.” She knew this, and she was sure that Helena had known this for as long as her, and yet the whole mess had happened and now they were both splitting.

Before anything else could be spoken, and admissions or heartfelt and to-the-point statements made, Pete arrived in a much calmer state, and so it was time to say goodbye. She felt bad for bidding the other woman a goodbye that she could hear when she didn’t afford Pete the same thing, but if anything, she didn’t want to make the same mistake again when it came to someone she loved, because of course... of course, she loved Helena. With all of her broken heart and overflowing brain; she loved Helena hopelessly and tragically.

Pete and she skipped arm-in-arm back to the office, and before he continued to the car for his stomach was begging for its next lunch, leaving Myka in the office, alone to check in that Joshua’s Horn was safe and shelved. That was a simple task, and so she was technically free to go back to Leena’s after finishing, leaving the sphere on Artie’s desk for Mrs Frederic to pop in and grab. But free was nothing at all what she felt. Her hand grew clammy under the weight of the sphere as her legs carried her into the smaller filing room, and before she could think twice and rationalise with herself, she spun it and Helena was there.

“Myka, I-“

“Don’t talk, because then I will start thinking and I don’t need to think right now; I need to feel, so just... listen,” Myka rushed out, looking at the floor and focussing on a crack in the wood – oddly poetic in its representation of her own split. She looked up after a moment of silence again, and saw Helena staring at her, blinking kindly for her to continue. “I hate you and what you did to me. I left my _family_ , Helena.” Her eyes latched onto the other woman’s then, and she saw the stab of her words in them. “I was so mad at you, and at me for believing you, for trusting you against all odds. I really thought you were on our side. Do you know how stupid I felt when I found that that couldn’t possibly be true?”

She seemed to wait for Helena’s response, but knew that it wouldn’t come. “I was lying on the floor of this amazing and hidden secret, with history all around me,” she continued. “Ideally that would be my happy place, you know... but it wasn’t.  I felt... my heart... fell out of my chest,” she began to stammer. Her breaths were quickening up, growing heavier and more burning in her throat. “I-“ she was to continue, but her brain kicked in as she heard another’s voice in the room.

“Arthur?” Mrs Frederic’s voice came from the main hold of the office. Myka drew in a short breath, cooler and shocking, as she looked out past Helena’s projection. Feeling caught, she looked back at Helena once more and saw the guilt riddling her face, the Englishwoman’s lips beginning to tremble with an almost apology, but then she spun the sphere and Helena dissolved out of sight.

Pressing it again to her chest, hard enough for her skin to start screaming under the pressure, she held it there as she finished her sentence. “I love you, Helena.” Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the smaller room with the sphere held out from her body, smiling over to Mrs Frederic. “Artie’s gone back to Leena’s, Mrs Frederic.” The other woman turned to her and smiled, noticing the sphere being held out in her direction as the agent approached.

“Ah, thank you, Myka,” she said, taking the sphere. Myka watched as she held it in her hand, then dragged her eyes away. “You’re still here, though?”

“Filing. I should really be going now though; Pete’s waiting for me outside.”

“Well, then; by all means, agent,” and as Myka turned to pick up her jacket from the back of Claudia’s chair, she sniffled, and when she turned back, Mrs Frederic was gone. A half shake of her head, and she left, feeling dazed and in need of a cry in the shower that night.

Next that Helena was brought back to the world was later that evening; in front of the Regents she stood, yet again to detail her assistance on the case and slip in her intentions of redemption and good-will. However, as Mr Kosan spoke, and the other Regents looked on, she could not hear. Her mind was blurred and her focus was hardly on anything in front of her; her mind was simply filled with an echo, soft and muttered. She repeated the words in her head for fear of losing them from memory altogether. That odd hum returned in her, despite the absence of a body and it consumed her entire conscience.

Myka loved her.

**Author's Note:**

> The working title for this was "THEY'RE JUST MEANT TO BE OK" so... jot that down :P If you want nothing but me emotionally typing how meant to be Myka and Helena are, then by all means send me a message here or over on tumblr @ lesbiankissesinspace.tumblr.com xo


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